


The Red Dragon Shall Rise Again (Y Ddraig Goch Ddyry Cychwyn)

by dark_pookha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arthurian, Community: HPFT, F/M, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them spoilers possible, NSPS, New Salem Philanthropic Society, New Salemers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_pookha/pseuds/dark_pookha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wounded land cries out for a true king. When the time is right, the red dragon shall rise again.</p><p>May contain 'Fantastic Beasts' spoilers; guessing at a plot point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter had the tags of legacy/innovation and spring. This story will heavily lean on Arthurian myth, but I’m going to play fast and loose with it. I’m using some of the older myths of Morgana LeFay where she wasn’t the half-sister of Arthur, but a seasoned ruler of her own realm (usually portrayed as Avalon, where Arthur was taken wounded). 
> 
> This was written for Alopex’s Four Season’s challenge at eHPF. It’s a daunting challenge where each one-shot in a collection must have one of the four seasons, be set in one of four different eras (Founder, Hogwarts/Post-Hogwarts, Marauder’s and Next-Gen), and also have a concept pair attached to it. 
> 
> The next chapter will be Marauder’s Era, set in the autumn and have the concept pair of Heritage/Tradition.

**Spring**  
  
The spring sun shone down through the window onto the frail old man.  He moved feebly as the rays struck his face, and he called out, his voice hoarse from disuse.   
  
“Vivian,” he almost whispered.  
  
She must have been near, for she appeared in the doorway almost instantly.  She moved to the bed, reached under the quilt, and grasped his hand.  
  
“Yes, love?”  she asked.  She tenderly brushed his thin, grey hair back from his face.  
  
“My time grows short and there are truths I must impart to you.”  A spasm of coughing overcame him and he sank back down in the pillow even deeper.  
  
“The Pax Badonicus will not last much longer, and the Saxons will invade again.”    
  
Vivian tried to pull her hand back, but the old man’s strength was surprising.  He sat upright on the bed and his eyes went blank.  
  
When he spoke, his voice came clear and ringing as a bell on a clear spring morning.  
  
“Hear me.  Arthur’s heir shall betray him at Camlann and all will fall.  Infidelity will be the downfall of King and land.  Infidelity will be the downfall of Guinevere and her heirs.  Only when the rulers are true can the land be true.  The wounded land cries out for a leader and one will not arise.“  
  
What do you mean—” she started, but he kept talking, lost in the grip of Prophecy.  
  
“The child beneath Guinevere’s breast is not the seed of Arthur, but the seed of your ward, Lancelot.  Arthur’s heir comes from the line of Morgaine, from a dalliance before he was wed.”  
  
“Modred,” she whispered.  
  
“Wizards and witches will face a burning time and all will be grey until four come to unite us.  Only when the world is ready once again to accept us will all be well in Britain.  All will fail until the heir of Arthur and the heir of Guinevere reunite and bring the land together again.”  
  
His face went ashen and he fell back to the pillow.  

* * *

  
The strange foursome appeared with a bang outside the ruined tower.  A light snow fell in soft flurries onto the tumbled stones, heavy for this late in the spring.  
  
“What is this place?” the gaunt, grey-eyed man asked.  He prodded at a fallen stone with a velvet boot.  
  
The large man with the huge red beard and smiling green eyes answered, “This, my friend, is the place I was telling you about.”  He gestured expansively at the ruin.  “This is where we shall build our school.”  
  
The plump, ginger-haired woman pulled a delicate, willow wand from her voluminous sleeve and dried up the spreading wet spot on the gaunt gentleman’s boots with a muttered incantation.  Turning to the large, red-haired man, she asked, “Why this place, Godric?”  
  
Godric didn’t answer, and instead, he led them around the fallen stones into the remains of a weed-filled courtyard.  He skirted a plant that waved hungrily at them from under a mound of snow.  The dark-haired woman in a blue travelling cloak was looking at the tower and not her feet.  She stumbled as she circled the plant and it whipped a tendril around her ankle.  
  
A silvery gleam slashed by her feet and severed the leafy tendril.   The plant shook in vegetative fury as Godric sheathed his sword and dragged the woman away from it.  
  
“Really, Rowena,” he said.  “Sometimes I don’t think you live in the same world as us.  Sit down and let Helga have a look at your wound.”  
  
Godric pulled a stout, oaken wand from his belt and with it he cleared a stone of snow.  Rowena limped to the stone and sat down.  When she lifted her dress to show her bleeding ankle, the gaunt man turned away resolutely.    
  
Rowena laughed; a light tinkly laugh that warmed the heart of all who heard it.  “Salazar, you act as if you’ve never seen my ankle before.”  She extended her foot beyond Salazar, and he looked down at her leg.  He turned red and again turned away.    
  
“A gentleman would never stare at a lady’s limbs.”  He folded his arms and stared at the ruined keep.  
  
“A real gentleman wouldn’t ignore a lady’s wounds as you are.”  She grimaced as Helga ripped her stocking off and exposed her ankle.  Helga Vanished the blood with her wand and examined the oozing wound.    
  
Helga reached into a small belt pouch and pulled out a wooden box that was patently too big to fit in the pouch.  As she struggled to pull the box from the mouth of the pouch, she spoke.  “It’s mostly superficial.  The Tentacula didn’t have time to inject you with any of its venom, so most of this is just punctures.”  
  
She finally removed the box from the pouch and opened it, revealing a kit filled with small vials and sharp, surgical instruments.  A small vial of liquid appeared in her hand, having been Summoned from where it had been stored under a linen rag.  
  
“Essence of dittany?” Rowena asked.  
  
Helga nodded as she unstoppered the bottle.  She tipped the bottle carefully over Rowena’s ankle, making sure to only get a drop over each small puncture wound from the Tentacula.  As the drops hit the wounds, they smoked and closed over, leaving only small, circular red marks.  
  
Rowena pulled her wand from its customary place over her left ear and mended her stocking.  When she rose, she winked at Helga.  She leaned heavily on Salazar.  
  
“Dear Salazar, I find that I’m quite overcome with my wound and would ask for your strong arm.”    
  
He flushed red again.  “Of course, my lady,” he said.  “Only a churl would ignore a wounded lady, as you pointed out only a moment ago.”  
  
She leaned into him as Helga smiled behind them.  
  
“You still haven’t told us why you chose this place,” Helga asked Godric, peering over the ruins.  
  
“I believe your answer lies there on the stone that our dear, wounded friend was sitting upon.”  With a flourish, Godric used his sword to chip away the ice from the front of the stone.  
  
Rowena disengaged from Salazar’s arm and knelt in front of it.  “Is this real?” she whispered.  
  
“What does it say, dear?” Helga asked as she peered over Rowena’s shoulder.    
  
Rowena leaned to one side so they could all read the inscription.  
  
 _Ambrosius._  
  
“I believe it is real,” Godric said suddenly, his voice echoing off the courtyard.   He had shoved aside a rotted door, revealing the tower’s dark interior.  “If you look just there, you can see the remains of the moving staircase made of crystal, the one that legend says he had his apprentice Vivian build for him.”  
  
Salazar helped Rowena forward, and then sniffed derisively.  “Merlin wasn’t a real person; he was merely a legend.”  
  
A light came from in the tower as Godric lit his wand tip.  A million sparkles from a fallen pile of crystal reflected back out the door and played over the faces of the four.  
  
As Godric stepped through the hole where the door had been, he said, “If you still think Merlin’s a legend after entering, then we’ll build the school elsewhere.”  
  


Rowena stumbled over a loose stone, again winking at Helga as Salazar caught her.  They all followed Godric into the tower.

  
The late spring sun shone down on Godric’s sweat-covered face as he struggled to levitate a heavy building stone.  He grunted softly as the stone set itself in place on the wall and Salazar locked it into place with mortar that poured from his wand.  
  
“Ho, Salazar, I need to take a moment.”  Godric grabbed a bucket and filled it with water from his wand.  Steam poured out into the chill air as he dunked his head into the bucket.   He whipped his head out of the bucket, spraying water from his long red locks.  Water dripped from his beard onto his tunic and he let out a whoop.  
  
Salazar jumped off the wall, using his wand to arrest his momentum.  He landed lightly as a bird next to Godric.  When Godric clapped him on the back, Salazar almost tipped into the bucket.  
  
“If we keep going like we are, then we’ll be finished just after harvest and ready for our first students.”  Godric Vanished the water and refilled the bucket.  
  
Something in Salazar’s expression caught Godric’s eye.   
  
“Out with it, man,” he told his gaunt friend.  
  
“I wanted to talk to you about Helga’s plan to admit Half-bloods.”  He started to say more, but Godric cut him off.  
  
“We’ve all talked it to death and it’s all been decided.”  Salazar lifted his hand in protest, but Godric kept talking.  “We’re going to take all who wish to study here, all who have the art.  None shall be turned away.”  
  
“No Half-blood has ever been accepted as an apprentice of a Slytherin before, and I don’t mean to start now!”  Salazar’s voice rose as he kicked the bucket over.  “As this water flows into the ground, so our lessons would be wasted on the porous brains of a Muggleborn or a Half-breed!”  
  
Godric sighed.  “Just because we deign to teach them doesn’t mean that we’re taking them as our apprentices.  This is something new.  We’re going to each teach them.  They’ll gain a broad spectrum of knowledge and be better witches and wizards for it.”  
  
“I also don’t like that we’re going to be teaching witches and wizards together.”  Salazar spat.  “The boys will be distracted by the girls and their own base urges.”  
  
Godric’s laughter rang off the walls.  “Boys will be distracted by their own base urges whether the girls are around or not.  We’ll take steps to make sure there aren’t dalliances under our walls.”  He clapped Salazar on the back again.  “Come let’s finish this before Helga and Rowena get back and wonder why we’re not done.”

He turned to levitate a stone again as Salazar levitated himself into position on top of the wall.  The sun shone down on Salazar’s grey eyes and flashed them crimson at Godric.

The nervous blonde boy slid the hat over his head.  He shook on his stool as the hat opened a rip near its brim and spoke.  
  
“Slytherin!” it shouted.  
  
The boy half-fell off the stool as he ran to the table where a dozen green-clad students awaited him.  They cheered when he sat amongst them.  
  
Godric leaned over and whispered in Salazar’s ear.  “You know the boy’s lineage?”  
  
Salazar rolled his eyes.  “I know what you and Rowena have discussed and I think it’s ridiculous.”  
  
“I’m telling you it’s true.”  Godric furrowed his brow and wiped crumbs from his beard.  “He’s of the line of Morgaine.  You should be proud to have him in your house.”


	2. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas Malfoy reveals a family secret to his son, Lucius.

Autumn

The heavy oaken desk dominated the room. Its polished surface gleamed dully in the wan light coming in from the small gap in the drapes. At first the window reflected only a tall, blond form, but then Abraxas Malfoy stepped closer to the window to block out his reflection. He looked down into the well-manicured courtyard of his mansion and saw his son, Lucius, a boy of ten, playing with a Doberman. The boy tossed a ball, and the dog coursed after it, muscles bunching in its lean frame. A glint from the window must have caught Lucius’s eye and he turned. He waved at his father and his father waved back. Abraxas unlocked the window and struggled to lift it. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he strained. Finally, he gave up and pulled his wand from his pocket. 

He flicked the wand at the window, muttering irritably under his wheezing breath. The window shot up with a bang and one of the panes of glass shattered, leaving only a few sharp edges in the mullions. As the window sprang open, a cool breeze blew back the drapes, bringing with it a hint of decaying leaves. A powerful sneeze rocked Abraxas, and he half-collapsed against the window. The boy in the courtyard shouted in alarm.

“Father!” he called. “Are you okay?”

The man held up his hand as a wave of wracking coughs overcame him. He gripped the open window to steady himself and cut his hand badly on a piece of broken glass. The boy dropped the ball and ran from the courtyard. The dog looked at the bouncing ball and chased it for a moment before turning in indecision and hesitating. It whined, curled its tail up around its legs and lay down, looking expectantly at the door where the boy had gone.

Blood dripped from Abraxas’s hand when he stepped out from behind the curtains. It left a crimson trail of droplets on the carpet as he staggered slowly to the leather chair behind the desk. He sat and opened the top drawer of the desk. He pulled out a small bottle and opened it, revealing a creamy, viscous substance. As he smeared the cream on his wounded hand, the wounds smoked briefly, then closed. Shakily, he put the bottle back in the drawer and pulled out a black cloth mask. He covered his mouth and nose with the mask and inhaled deeply. His breath rasped from under the mask, but it seemed to ease quickly, and soon his breathing became more rhythmic.

The door opened and his son rushed into the room, his face pulled tight and his eyes starting to fill with tears. 

“Father!” He started to say more, but Abraxas’s coughing had started again. Lucius ran to his father’s side and held his shoulders. Abraxas lifted a finger feebly and pointed it at a lower drawer in the desk. Lucius squeezed his father’s shoulder quickly and opened the drawer. Potion bottles filled the drawer, and they rattled as Lucius yanked it open. He rummaged around and pulled out a small green phial with a cork covered in red wax. His hands shook as he peeled the wax from the cork and opened it. Pungent odours of menthol and eucalyptus filled the room as he poured the liquid onto Abraxas’s mask.

The potion soaked into the mask and Abraxas’s coughing slowly abated, then stopped altogether. His breathing was still shallow and ragged. He lifted the mask from his face and spoke.

“Lucius, there are some things I have to tell you before you go to Hogwarts.”

Lucius restoppered the phial.

“Can it wait?” he asked, helping his father sit more upright. “We should get you to St. Mungo’s.”

Abraxas lifted his mouth to speak. “It’s too late; there’s nothing else they can do for me besides make me more comfortable.”

Lucius started to say something, but Abraxas held his hand up. “I know you’re going to suggest Les Anges in Paris, but they can’t do anything for me either. I went there last year when we were in Paris and you and your mother were at the Louvre.”

“They couldn’t do anything?” Lucius’s voice broke.

Abraxas shook his head. He lifted the mask from his face and put it on the desk. A small oily spot oozed from under it onto the polished oak of the desk. He gestured with his wand and the patch disappeared.

His shoulders shook as he gripped the arms of the chair and started to rise. Lucius gripped him tightly around an arm and helped his father to stand.

Abraxas leaned heavily on his son. Together, they made their way to a non-magical portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Abraxas touched his wand to the amulet that Slytherin wore around his neck and whispered, “Portus Revelio.”

A door frame appeared under the portrait with a snake-shaped brass handle. 

“Give me your hand,” Abraxas commanded, his tone brooked no disobedience.

Lucius took his free hand and held it out.

Abraxas ran his wand across the palm of his son’s hand, causing a deep gash to appear in the palm. Lucius flinched, but did not remove his hand from his father’s grasp.

“Know my son by his blood,” Abraxas told the handle. The snake’s eyes glowed red. Abraxas put Lucius’s hand on the handle and closed it. A small forked tongue studded with emeralds shot out and licked the blood from Lucius’s hand. The wound closed as the snake licked. When it was sated and the wound completely closed, the eyes of the snake faded back to plain brass and the door handle turned under Lucius’s hand.

“There’s an enchantment on this room,” Abraxas told his son. “Anything you learn in here can only be told to family and only in this room.” He turned his son’s face toward him. “Do you understand?”

Lucius swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, father.”

Lucius pulled the door open and entered a small room, no more than eight feet wide by six feet deep. Small magical portraits lined the wall; blond-haired faces in garb from all eras.

Abraxas followed his son into the room and pulled the door shut. They could both feel a heavy pull of magic when the door clicked. A matching snake handle appeared on the inside of the door and its eyes followed them wherever they went in the room.

Abraxas gestured at the portraits. “These are your ancestors. There’s a storm coming and I fear you’ll be caught in the middle of it. You need to know your heritage before you go to Hogwarts.”

The portraits all regarded Lucius and Abraxas silently. Abraxas pointed at a very small portrait of a wizard in a plain black robe with a rampant red dragon emblazoned on it. The powerfully built blond figure in the portrait raised a sword dripping with blood and shouted in a language that Lucius didn’t understand. A dark-haired man lay bleeding under his feet with a glittering ruby sword in his hand.

Abraxas pointed at the man raising the blood-soaked sword. “That is Modred, son of Morgaine by Arthur. You are descended from a great king and one of the greatest witches of all time.”

Lucius stared first at his father and then at the portrait. There was an unmistakable likeness in all the portraits, a haughtiness that didn’t just come from high birth but from the mien of the men in the portraits. It took Lucius a moment to realise something else.

“They’re all men.” His eyes searched the walls

“Not quite,” his father said. He pointed to a small figure in black behind the mounted figure of Modred. The figure was unmistakably female and she was weeping; her shoulders hunched and he could hear her wailings if he listened closely.

“That’s Morgaine.”

Lucius looked closer. “You mean Morgana LeFay?”

His father nodded. “Yes.”

“Why is she crying? She should be proud of her son,” Lucius said, with a fierce gleam in his eyes.

Abraxas shook his head. “You don’t understand.” He knelt shakily before his son to look him in the eye. “He killed his own father. His mind had been so poisoned with hate for his father that he killed him. Morgaine had told him of his heritage; how he’d been born a bastard. Arthur never recognised him as heir, and Modred killed him at Camlann and was in turn killed by Arthur’s troops.”

“I don’t understand.” Lucius turned back to the portraits. “Why wouldn’t Arthur recognise him as heir?”

Abraxas stood again and regarded the portraits over his son’s head. “Arthur didn’t realise something that many men never realise.” He turned his son back to him. “Family’s the most important thing. Always protect your family above everything else.”

Lucius cocked his head. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“There’s a man you may have heard of. He goes by the name of Lord Voldemort. Have you heard of him?”

Lucius shook his head. “Should I have?”

His father sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had, but I’m also not surprised that you haven’t.”

Abraxas put a hand on Lucius’s shoulder and leaned on him. “This man stands for a lot of the things we do: purity of blood, and power in the hand of those best able to wield it. But, he’s also a fanatic and he’ll do anything to achieve his goals.” He shook Lucius gently by his shoulder.

“If he approaches you, you must do what he says.”

Lucius’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Abraxas leaned forward. “Because he’ll kill anyone who stands in his way. He’s more powerful than Dumbledore, and you know he defeated Grindelwald.”

He pulled his hand from his son’s shoulder and pointed at the fallen figure under Modred’s feet. “You must live because one day a Malfoy will rule England again.”

Abraxas tapped his wand in a complex pattern on the portrait of Modred. The portrait swung out on unseen hinges, revealing a very small glass orb. He put the orb into his son’s hand and it began glowing with a blue bale-fire light.

A voice came from the orb and both father and son listened raptly.

Lucius sat nervously in the drawing room of the mansion. His packed trunk for Hogwarts sat to his side. He fingered the new prefect badge on his robes and looked at the man who sat with his father.

He must have been in his late fifties, but his hair was still black, with no hint of greying. His dark eyes saw everything and he turned to Lucius.

“Lucius, you will find others who support our ends at Hogwarts, won’t you?” He stared straight into Lucius’s eyes and Lucius felt a pressure growing in his mind.

“Yes, my lord,” he said. Lucius lowered his head respectfully. The pressure in his mind grew and he knew that Lord Voldemort was using Legilimency on him. He could feel the Dark Lord searching for something. The image of the snake handle came to his mind, but Voldemort’s mind slipped off it.

Lord Voldemort rose and stretched. He moved to Lucius and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll make a good Death Eater; if you live up to the promise that you’ve shown, soon you’ll be in my inner circle.” He leaned in close and whispered. “But if you don’t, then you will join the Muggle-lovers and blood traitors, and so will those you love.”

The pressure in Lucius’s mind grew again and he saw Narcissa Black, looking down her nose at him when he had asked her to Hogsmeade. Other images of her flashed by: talking with her friends, looking at him appraisingly when she thought he wouldn’t notice, the hatred in her eyes as her cousin Sirius taunted her, the delicate hand that she had placed in his on the Hogwarts express last year.

Lucius gulped. He raised his eyes and looked at Lord Voldemort. “I understand,” he whispered back to the Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort left in sweep of black robes. The open door showed red and orange leaves that swirled in the autumn wind. When he had gone, Abraxas spoke.

“Remember, do as he says. Protect your family and those you love.” He rose and staggered to his son, breathing heavily as he went. “I hope to live to see you married to Ms Black. She will be an excellent addition to our family tradition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N The next chapter will be set in the winter, in the Hogwarts era and will feature the concept pair of valour/heroism.


	3. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is harsh and never seems to end. Ginny Weasley discovers a secret.

Winter

Harry shouted and all hell broke loose. Ginny’s hex hit one of the shelves across from the group of students and collapsed it onto the Death Eaters. Four other hexes shot out and shelves and glass orbs sprayed everywhere. Dumbledore’s Army used the distraction to run.

Ginny ran behind Ron, with Luna close on her heels. As she ran, one of the orbs rolled by her foot and began to glow. Without pausing, she scooped it up and put it in her pocket.

* * *

 

Ginny sat at home, tossing the small glass orb from one hand to another. Whenever it got farther away than six inches, it would stop glowing. She put an eye up to it, but couldn’t see anything in the bluish light. She held her ear to it, hoping to hear something.

“Ginny!” Her mother shouted up the stairs. “Dinner’s ready! Let the boys know!”

She sighed and put the orb in the pocket of her robes hanging from the hook on her door and went up two landings on the stairs to yell at Ron and Harry. Ron’s muffled voice came down from his room and she took this to mean that he was on his way. She started to go down the stairs, but then changed her mind and waited on the landing.

Ron came down first, followed closely by Harry and Hermione. They stuck together conspiratorially most of the time now.

“Yeah, Ginny,” Ron said. “Thanks for getting us.”

“No problem.”

Ron and Harry squeezed by her on the way down; Harry shot her a sidelong glance as he passed and he looked as if he would say something, but then went by. Ginny grabbed Hermione’s arm and whispered in her ear.

“Come by my room after dinner, I’ve got something to show you.”

Hermione nodded and both of them followed the boys down to dinner.

After a strained but abundant dinner, everyone went their separate ways. Ginny followed the trio up the stairs.

“Harry, Ron, I need to stop and talk to Ginny for a bit,” Hermione said. “I’ll be up when we’re done.”

“How long’s it going to be?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked at Ginny who shrugged. “Hermione needs to help me with something. Girl stuff.” Both Ron and Harry went a bit pink and Hermione suppressed a grin.

Ron and Harry went up to his room. Hermione followed Ginny into hers.

“Muffliato.” Ginny made sure he door was shut.

“What did you need to see me about?” Hermione asked.

“This,” Ginny said simply, and she pulled the glass prophecy orb out of her robe pocket. As she picked it up, it began glowing. She handed it to Hermione and it went out.

“Where’d you get this?” Hermione asked, examining the sphere.

“I picked it up at the Department of Mysteries when we were fighting. It glowed when it came near me and I just felt I should pick it up.”

Hermione rolled it over in her hands. She pulled her wand out and began waving it over the globe, muttering incantations the whole time.

“Was there a tag with it?” Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. “Nothing that I saw. It just rolled by me and started glowing, so I picked it up.”

Hermione handed it back to Ginny and it started glowing blue again. Ginny put it on her bed and pushed it away. When it got about six inches away, it went out.

“It’s clearly meant for you,” Hermione said.

“Why would there be a prophecy about me in the Department of Mysteries?” Ginny asked. Her face had gone pale and her freckles stood out more against her white skin.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know. When Harry picked up the prophecy orb with his name on it, it broke before he could hear it.”

“Do you think it’s related to what you three are up to?” Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head again. “I don’t know; I don’t think so, but until we hear what it has to say, we’ll never know.”

“Can you activate it?” Ginny picked it up again and it started glowing.

“Only the person who it’s meant for can activate it.” Hermione sighed. She poked it with her wand as Ginny held it. “Specialis revelio.”

The orb flickered for a moment, but nothing else happened.

Ginny pulled her wand out and touched it to the orb. “Specialis revelio.”

A man’s voice began to issue from the orb. It was deep and resonant, but it also sounded frail and elderly at the same time. It spoke in a language neither of them understood, with the words being interrupted occasionally by wracking coughs.

“I think that was Gaelic or Irish,” Hermione said after the voice stopped.

“Did you understand that?” Ginny asked.

“No, I don’t speak Irish. I thought I heard the word rí which means king, but that’s all I could make out.” Hermione sighed. “I know a Memory Charm that would make it so we can remember it, even if we can’t understand it.”

Ginny put the orb down on her desk. “I don’t need it. I’ll always remember what it said.” She recited the words that the prophecy had uttered. “I don’t understand it, but I’ll always remember it.” She shook a bit and Hermione embraced her.

“Do you want me to skive off from the boys for a bit and help with this?” Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. “No, you can go ahead with whatever it is you’re helping Harry with. I think this can wait; I just have a feeling about it.”

Hermione released the hug and went to the door. “Anything you need, just ask. You’re like the sister I never had growing up.”

Ginny blushed. “Thanks Hermione. I feel the same.”

As the door shut, Ginny rose and put the orb back into her robe pocket.

* * *

 

The wind howled outside the castle. Light snow pelted the window softly. Ginny sat in the Gryffindor common room idly working on her potions homework. She would write a few words then stare out the window.

Seamus walked by with Dean. Dean said something that Ginny couldn’t hear

“Póg mo thóin.” Seamus said back. They both laughed.

Ginny blinked and thought for just a second then chased after them. She reached them just as they got to door that led to the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.

She grabbed Seamus by the arm. “Seamus can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Ginny, what do you need?”

She looked around at the crowded common room. “Can we go somewhere private?”

Dean scowled and started to say something, but Ginny interrupted him with a kiss. “No need to be jealous, I just need to ask Seamus something, okay?”

“Something you can’t ask in front of me?” Dean retorted.

“Not everything is about you or us.” Ginny said simply.

Dean turned and stalked off to the dormitories.

Seamus laughed. “You’ve got my attention. This better be good. You know Dean’s just going to ask what this was all about?”

Ginny led him over to a quiet corner of the common room.

“I heard something that I think might be Gaelic or Irish and I was wondering if you could translate it for me?” Ginny asked.

“Sure,” Seamus said, “what is it?”

Ginny leaned forward and whispered what the orb had told her into Seamus’s ear.

Seamus blinked and thought before replying.

“Where did you hear this?” he asked. “It’s not Irish, I think it’s old Gaelic. From what I could make out, it’s about King Arthur and healing the land or something.”

“I read it in an Arthurian romance and just wondered what it meant?” She forced a laugh and put a hand on his arm. “Thank you. Would you please let Dean know that it was nothing important and that I just didn’t want to look silly in front of him.”

“Okay,” Seamus said. “I’ll let him know.”

Ginny went back, scooped up her potions homework, stuffed it in her rucksack and left the common room through the portrait hole.

She walked through the castle to the Ravenclaw tower. She reached the door and grasped the eagle knocker. As she swung it down, it spoke.

“Ahh, a Gryffindor student. I’ll speak slowly and use small words. What path should you follow?”

Ginny stepped back from the door. “Erm, my own path, don’t let others make decisions for me.”

“Correct.” The door opened. Ginny stuck her head in and a head swivelled toward her. She didn’t recgonise the girl. “Could you get Luna for me?” Ginny asked. The girl nodded and walked off. Ginny pulled her head back from the door and it closed behind her.

“Really, you disturbed me just for that?” the knocker asked.

“Sorry,” Ginny said, “I really needed to talk to Luna?”

“And you couldn’t just call her with, oh I don’t know; magic?”

Ginny didn’t answer and waited. It was about two minutes before Luna came out the door in bronze coloured jeans and a blue T-shirt.

“Ginny,” Luna said, slightly breathlessly. “What can I do for you?”

“I need help with something. Do you have some time?” Ginny asked.

Luna nodded. “I was just putting the final touches on an anti-Nargle Charm, but it can wait. What’s up?”

“You speak Gaelic?” Ginny asked.

Luna blinked. “I do, and Irish, Mermish, Gobbledegook, Latin, a little Russian, oh and a little Swedish.”

Ginny blinked back and paused a moment before replying. “When do you have time to learn all these?”

“Oh, it’s not hard to learn, you just have to read until you figure it out.” Luna smiled. “Of course it’s better to actually learn from a native speaker, but not too many goblins will teach Gobbledegook.”

Ginny indicated for Luna to follow her. They walked through the castle to an unused classroom and sat at a bench.

Ginny pulled the orb from her robes and put the glowing ball on the table.

“A prophecy orb from the Department of Mysteries?” Luna asked.

Ginny nodded. She touched her wand to it and activated it.

Luna closed her eyes and listened as the man’s voice spoke.

When it had finished, she asked. “When did you get this, at the fight?”

Ginny nodded.

“It’s definitely old Gaelic, maybe Proto-Celtic or Gaelic from about the time of the split into the Goidelic languages and the Brittonic languages. It’s about King Arthur and his betrayal at Camlann. It says that the land can’t be healed until the line of Arthur reunites with the line of Guinevere. It also says that the land was wounded by infidelity. Give me a moment and I’ll give you a translation.”

She closed her eyes again and silently moved her mouth. After about five minutes, she opened her eyes.

“Arthur’s heir shall betray him at Camlann. The land will fall due to infidelity. Guinevere shall perish from it. Only true rulers can save the land. The land is wounded and wants to be led. Guinevere’s child is from Lancelot and Arthur’s from Morgana le Fay from before he was wed. Four shall unite us. Only when we are accepted by the world will all be well in Britain. All must fail until the lines of Guinevere and Arthur are one again and the land is healed.”

“What?” Ginny asked.

“I’m paraphrasing,” Luna said. “It’s moderately difficult to translate an old language you’ve never heard spoken before accurately.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Ginny wondered out loud.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re the heir of Arthur and you have to find the heir of Guinevere and marry him.”

“Wait, wasn’t Morgana le Fay Arthur’s half-sister? That’s what it says on her Chocolate Frog card.”

“Well that depends on what legends you read.” Luna smiled. “Older tales have Morgana as one of the enchantresses of Avalon where Arthur was taken wounded, and later tales have her being the daughter of Uther. I think this makes it clear that she wasn’t Arthur’s half-sister.”

“What makes you say that?” Ginny asked.

“Well, if she was his half-sister, surely Merlin would have mentioned it.” Luna grinned. “This prophecy is from Merlin.”

Ginny put her head in her hands. “How could it be from Merlin?” she whispered.

“The language dates it to around the time the Celtic language split, or just before, and at the end, he calls out ‘Ninian’ who we would call ‘Vivian’ today.”

“What does that other stuff mean?” Ginny asked.

“Not familiar with Arthurian legend?” Luna’s eyes brightened and Ginny recognised this as her friend about to go into story-telling mode.

“A lot of people believe that Guinevere’s infidelity with Lancelot is what caused Camelot’s downfall.” Luna poked the orb. “This prophecy would seem to confirm that. It also says that Arthur’s cheating with Morgana contributed to this, even if he wasn’t married to Guinevere at that time, he was fated to be with her and having a child with Morgana ruined his future fate. Mordred was not the child fated to rule Britain, but he wanted to, and when Arthur didn’t recognise Mordred as his heir, Mordred killed him.”

Luna paused a moment and ran her hand through her hair in an automatic gesture.

“The land and the king are related. When the king is sick, the land is sick and when the land isn’t whole, the king isn’t whole. There’s ties to this and the Fisher King legends, where the king couldn’t father children due to a wound and this caused the land to not have an heir and it wasted away.”

Ginny hung her head. “So I have to find the heir of Guinevere, marry him and we’ll heal the land?”

“Or your children will, it’s as ambivalent as any prophecy I’ve ever read about.”

* * *

 

Years later, Harry knelt in front of Ginny, a ring box open in his hand.

“Marry me?” he asked.

Ginny reached into her pocket, kneeled next to Harry and handed him the orb. Nothing happened. She took the orb back.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I can’t.” She rose and Harry stood. He opened his mouth to speak, but she leaned in and kissed him fiercely.

“Forgive me,” she said as she pulled away. She pulled her wand and Disapparated.

* * *

 

The dusty tome lay open between her and Luna. Luna traced the names back, her lips moving as she read. Ginny read slower, still having troubles with the Middle French it was written in.

“I think I found something here,” Luna said. “I don’t believe the Weasley family goes back to Arthur, but instead to Guinevere.”

She pointed to a name. “This says that Wassily du Lac claimed to be descended from Lancelot, but there’s no provenance to back it up.” She flipped a few pages gently.

“And here we see that Wassily’s children changed their surname to Weasley during the late 14th century. This is probably why your family’s considered one of the sacred twenty-eight pureblood families.”

“You’re sure? Ginny asked.

“Sure? No.” Luna replied. “But I feel it’s true, and I think you do, too.”

Ginny nodded.

“Now we just need to find the heir of Arthur by Morgana.”

“Well, we can start with Mordred, but his sons aren’t usually named. Some texts say he had a son named Melehan, but I’ve never seen anything reliable about him.” Luna closed the tome and pushed it away. “So much has been lost from this time, it’s hard to separate myth from truth.”

* * *

 

The match had been close, and the Harpies had won by the narrowest of margins, even with their Seeker having caught the Snitch. The blinding snow had hampered everyone. Ginny had changed and put on her travelling robes to prepare for her return home when the press secretary grabbed her arm.

“Quidditch Weekly wants a quick interview, please.” The woman pointed toward the booth over the pitch where the announcers were still broadcasting on the WWN.

“Okay,” Ginny said and climbed the stairs to the announcer’s booth. As she passed by the VIP booth, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement came out, noded at Ginny and Disapparated. Lucius and Draco Malfoy came out next, talking animatedly to each other and didn’t see Ginny. Draco bumped into her and knocked her over. The orb rolled out of her pocket. Everyone stared at it. As Ginny rose, Draco leaned over and picked it up.

The orb glowed and the voice began to speak.

“You?” Lucius and Draco both asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This chapter is actually about freedom/faith instead of valor/heroism. I’m going to save that pair for the final chapter.” Póg mo thóin” is often transcribed as “pogue mahone” and means “kiss my arse.”


	4. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Draco fulfill their obligations to Prophecy. Their children rise, but then tragedy strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now going to have to deviate from the original challenge. This chapter was getting too long and this was a natural stopping point, so there will have to be a fifth chapter to fill it out. Brexit happening also changed radically what this chapter was going to be about (originally about Brexiting about 30 years from now).

“How’d your mother take the news?” Hermione asked.

“Well, there wasn’t any screaming, but she definitely didn’t understand.”  Ginny sighed.  “I think she had her heart set on Harry as a son-in-law from when she first knew that I fancied him.  She thought that maybe I was imagining this or reading more into it than I should.”

Hermione poked at the orb sitting between them.  “Dumbledore once told Harry something about the prophecy not mattering until someone actually heeded it and did something to set it into motion.  If you hadn’t looked for it, then it might not have mattered.”

“Yeah, but if there’s a chance that my child is destined for greatness, shouldn’t I do anything to make sure that happens?” Ginny asked.

“Maybe, but you’re braver than I am.”  Hermione shuddered.  “I wouldn’t be able to marry Draco; not after all the way he treated me and Harry.”

“You say he didn’t identify Harry when you were captured, and he easily could have.  Maybe there’s more to him than you saw.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hermione replied, “but I wouldn’t count on it.”

 

 

* * *

 

“She’s a blood traitor; you can’t allow this marriage to go forward!”  Abraxas’s portrait shouted at Lucius.

“Yes, she’s a blood traitor, but her family is Pure-blood and on the registry.  This will go a long way to re-establishing our good name.”  Lucius sat behind the oaken desk in the study and steepled his fingers.  “Not to mention the prophecy clearly identified her as the heir of Guinevere.  I think I must let this go.”

He rose and went to the door.  A haggard house-elf waited behind the door.

“Umbrion, please fetch my wife and son and have them meet me in the study.”

The elf bowed.  “At once, master.”  He Disapparated with a bang.

Lucius smiled.

 

 

* * *

 

Hermione and Ginny sat on one side of the table with Draco, while Lucius, Narcissa, and their barrister, Avocatius Nodge, sat on the other side.

"This marriage contract is unacceptable," the barrister said, placing the scroll on the table. "The clause prohibiting my client from being alone with his grandchildren is morally indefensible and will be stricken." He moved his wand to strike out the clause in the contract, but Draco grabbed his arm.

"The clause stays in," Draco said simply. "My father is never to be alone with a child of ours."

The barrister looked to Lucius, and his glowing red, angry face.

Hermione jumped in. "My clients are firm on this Avocatius, they will not budge from this clause."

"Really, Mrs Weasley, why would your clients insist on such a clause?" Avocatius asked.

Hermione started to speak, but Draco put a hand up.

"My father poisoned my mind with his nonsense about blood purity and strength, and I know he'll try the same with any child we have. I simply will not have him trying to drive a wedge between us." Lucius's mouth opened and then snapped shut as Draco continued. "I love and respect what my father has done for me, but I cannot in good conscience allow him to interfere in my, I mean our, marriage and child-rearing."

Ginny cleared her throat and spoke, "This point is non-negotiable. Lucius Malfoy will never, NEVER be allowed to be alone with any children we have together. One of us or Narcissa must always be with him."

Lucius stood up suddenly, his chair spilling out behind him.

“How can you do this?” He asked Draco.

“Just like this, Dad.” He grabbed the contract and signed his name with a flourish. “We don’t need your agreement on this, but we did this out of courtesy to you. You will never, never be allowed to indoctrinate our children.”

“If you both sign that, I’ll cut you out of your inheritance. Malfoy Manor will go to your mother’s relatives.”

“So, Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin,” Draco said. He looked at Ginny and she nodded. “I’m okay with that. You go ahead and give my inheritance to them, they deserve it more than I do.”

Lucius banged his hand on the table and stalked out the door. The pop of air from the next room said he’d Disapparated.

Narcissa sighed. “I’ll talk to him, he’ll come around.”

“Of course he will, he wants to see me married off to a Pureblood on the registry to have the Malfoy name regain credibility.” Draco said.

Ginny took the contract and signed it.

 

 

* * *

 

The wedding took place in a large cathedral. The press occupied most of the last two rows. The reception afterward was a gala affair. When all the guests had finally had their fill of the cake and champagne, Ginny and Draco retreated to the priest’s office.

“This is a most unusual request, and I’ve never done this before.” The vicar said. “I’m still not entirely sure that I should.”

“It’s important, father.” Ginny said. “We need to consecrate this with an Unbreakable Vow.”

Draco gulped and nodded.

“Very well.” Draco and Ginny grasped hands. The priest put his wand on the spot where their wrists met.

Silvery wires twined about their conjoined wrists.

“Do you, Draco Malfoy, promise on pain of death to cleave only to this woman, Ginevra Weasley-Malfoy and to no other as long as both of you shall live?”

“Yes, I do so swear.” His voice shook. The silvery wire connecting his wrist glowed brighter.

The priest turned to Ginny. “And do you, Ginevra Weasley-Malfoy, promise on pain of death to cleave only to this man, Draco Malfoy and to no other as long as both of you shall live?”

“I do so swear,” she said confidently. The wires glowed even brighter and then constricted down onto their wrists, where they left small black marks not unlike a tattoo.

 

 

* * *

 

“Did you have to close your eyes and think of England?” Hermione asked.

“At first I did, but he’s really a gentle lover and tries to tend to my needs.” Ginny smiled. “He’s not as bad as he used to be.”

_She thought back to that first night together. Neither of them had wanted to try it on the honeymoon, they didn’t think they knew each other well enough yet. It had been 3 months before they went to bed as man and wife together._

_They had taken a walk on the Seine and visited the Louvre, both enjoying the Impressionists, even though Ginny didn’t know much about them. Draco told her of Degas and showed her Degas’s ballerinas. Ginny loved the flowing movement implied in the paintings. Draco had learned about them by smuggling books of Muggle Art into the house. When his father found out there had been a huge argument._

_They walked hand-in-hand from the Louvre through the 1er arondissement, down the Seine and to their hotel on the Île de la Cité. The ordered room service and drank strong wine and brandy with their dinner. They giggled together as the drink took them. Draco made the first move and laid a gentle kiss on her throat._

_“Only when you’re ready,” he whispered._

_She pulled him closer into her and pulled his shirt from his pants. A bandage covered his right side, starting just below his ribs and ending just below his hipbone._

_“What’s this?” She asked._

_“It’s never healed since Potter hit me with that spell in the bathroom in our sixth year. The best Healers have tried, but they say the curse will be with me all my life. I have to take a blood restoring draught once a week.”_

_Ginny put her hand over the bandage and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Draco had pulled away and started to put his shirt back on. She stopped him and pulled him close._

_“I’m ready.”_

Hermione nodded. “Every time I’ve seen him after the war, he’s seemed to be lost in his own head. Is he okay?”

Ginny shook her head. “I really think the war broke something in him. He’s very diffident and not as arrogant as he used to be. I’ve tried talking to him about it, but he either clams up or changes the subject. I think it’ll take a while before we trust each other enough to talk about the war.”

There was a comfortable silence while Hermione drank her tea and Ginny munched a biscuit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco and Ginny sat in the VIP box at the Quidditch World Cup Final. They had an excellent view of the matchup between England and Germany. The white and red clad English Seeker sped by them, either in pursuit of the Snitch or just faking, Ginny couldn’t tell yet. Abundant plates of food and drink were available via House Elf or human wizard attendant. Ginny leaned over and whispered into Draco’s ear. “Now this part of having wealth, I like.”

Draco nodded and turned to speak to her, but then his eye caught Harry in the corner sitting by the Minister of Magic and Draco met his eyes. Harry returned the gaze for a moment, then turned away and spoke to the Minister. The Minister looked surprised, then stood as Harry turned and left the box.

Ginny had noticed what Draco was looking at. She started to speak, but Draco spoke first.

“You still love him, don’t you?” He whispered, flatly.

Ginny pulled back, paused and thought for a second. “Yes,” she whispered back, “I still love him. I think I’ll always love him in some part of me.” She turned his Draco’s face to meet hers. “But I’ll never, never act on it, not just because of the Unbreakable Vow, but because what we’re doing is important.”

“I hope one day you can love me, at least a fraction of the way you do him.” Draco said.

“I hope so, too, but I am growing to respect the new you.” Ginny pulled him into a light kiss.

Cheering from the match drew both of their attentions back to the pitch.

 

 

* * *

 

Ginny banged into the kitchen at the Burrow.

“Mum!” She yelled. “Mum, where are you?”

She pushed through the Burrow before finally finding her mother in the orchard, weeding under a stunted apple tree.

“Mum, I’ve been calling for you, couldn’t you hear me?”

“What?” Molly asked, pulling plugs from her ears. “I couldn’t hear you, I had anti-doxy plugs in my ears.”

“I didn’t know doxies would fly into your ears,” Ginny said.

“It says so in ‘ _The Guide to Household Pests,”_ Molly stated.

“Well, yeah, but Lockhart was a fake, so take it with a grain of salt.” Ginny sat next to her mother.

“I’m pregnant.”

Molly smiled and jumped up. Ginny stood with her. Molly reached out and put a hand on Ginny’s stomach.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”

“Not sure, yet, but if it’s a boy, we’ll name him Arthur, if it’s a girl, we’ll name her Ygraine. Let’s go in and get some tea.”

Molly hugged Ginny tight, then then they walked back to the Burrow, arms around each other.

 

 

* * *

 

Ginny chased little Arthur around the large sitting room at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa had opened all the curtains that morning and golden sunlight flowed on the dark furnishings, burnishing them a reddish-gold. Narcissa smiled at Arthur’s giggles and Ginny’s flowing red hair. Ginny finally caught him as he rounded a large sofa and scooped him up. She rained kisses on his head.

“Gran,” he said and held out his hands to Narcissa.

Ginny carried him to Narcissa and handed him over. Narcissa hugged him tight and stroked his auburn hair.

“Wuv you, Gran,” Arthur said and planted a sloppy kiss on her.

“I love you, too, Arthur, more than you can ever know.” Narcissa sat and balanced him on her knee.

Ginny went to the kitchen and came back a couple of minutes later with some tea and lemon curd scones.

“We have house-elves to do that,” Narcissa said.

“I like making tea and I thought you like the time with your grandson,” Ginny said.

“I do enjoy my time with Arthur. I wish you’d visit more.” Narcissa sipped her tea.

“You know why we don’t come more often.”

“Yes, I understand, but he’s really not that bad. Not anymore. He just wants to see his grandson.” Narcissa put down her tea on a doily. “He wants to know that he did the right thing allowing the marriage, and he’s not sure.”

Ginny cut her off. “He didn’t _allow_ anything. We--Draco and I decided.”

Narissa held up her hands placatingly. “Sorry, poor choice of words, but that’s how he thinks.”

“I don’t want to go over this again.” Ginny sighed. “Can’t we just enjoy the visit?”

They heard Draco’s footsteps on the grand staircase and soon he came into the sitting room, wearing a dark brown robe with a high collar.

He smiled at Arthur sitting on his mother’s lap and went to Ginny. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead absent-mindedly.

“Did you tell her the news yet?” He asked.

Ginny shook her head. “I thought I’d let you.”

Narcissa eyed them expectantly.

“Arthur’s going to have a little brother soon. We’re going to name him Mordred Abraxas.”

Narcissa put Arthur down and rose to hug Draco. She waved at Ginny from the hug and Ginny stood and joined the group hug.

“Me too,” said Arthur and ran to his father who scooped him up with playful kisses.

 

 

* * *

 

Arthur Malfoy sat in the Healer’s office fiddling with the hem of his robe. He looked anywhere but at the Healer and her lime green robes. Draco sat next to him, his mouth set in a compressed line.

“And you’ve never accidently cause anything to move that you know of?” The Healer asked, scratching on a parchment with a quill.

“No,” he answered sullenly. “Am I a Squib?”

The Healer met Arthur’s intense, brown-eyed gaze. “It’s too early to tell still, but the fact that you haven’t accidently done magic is not a good sign.”

Silent tears rolled down Arthurs cheeks and he sniffled as the Healer continued to write. Draco put his arm around his son. A second Healer came into the room and handed the first one a potion.

“Drink this, please.” The Healer handed him a potion.

Arthur sniffed it first, and recoiled as the peppery smell assaulted his nose. “What is it?” He asked.

“It’s an enhancing potion mixed with a Pepper-Up potion. It’ll make you feel better if nothing else and if you do have any powers, it should bring them to the forefront.” She smiled at Arthur who smiled slightly back, but didn’t move to drink the potion.

“It’s okay, Arthur, go ahead.” Draco said.

Arthur hesitated, then lifted the cup to his lips and drained the potion. He shuddered as the peppery potion went down his throat and then belched long and loudly.

“I’ll give the potion about ten minutes to work.” The Healer stood and left.

“Dad, what if I _am_ a Squib?” Arthur asked, not looking at his dad.

Draco lifted Arthur’s head to meet his eyes. “It you are, then we’ll deal with it. You’ll get a good education, but we’ll never send you away to live as a Muggle unless that’s what you want. You’ll always be a part of our family and always welcome at home.”

“But people will point and laugh; not just at me, but at you and Mum, too.”

“If they do, then we’ll put up with it.” Draco smiled. “I’ve learned to live with the stares and pointing. You know that I was a Death Eater, although not entirely by choice, and I’ve had to live with that. Every day that I’m out somewhere, someone will point me out. I’ve been spat on and assaulted and called everything you can think of. I’ve grown a thick skin, and I know you can if you need to.”

They sat in silence until the Healer came back in with a stack of blocks and some ESP cards to test Arthur with.

 

 

* * *

 

Draco, Ginny and their son Arthur all stood on Platform 9 ¾ and watched as Mordred boarded the train to Hogwarts. Arthur’s face was screwed up in concentration and Ginny knew he was holding back tears. It had been worse two years ago when he would have left for Hogwarts, but instead prepared to go back to the Muggle school he attended.  Ginny remembered how it felt to watch all of her older brothers go off to school and wanting to go so badly, but she knew it wasn’t the same.

Mordred waved goodbye one last time and then disappeared into the carriage.

“Can we go now, please?” Arthur asked shakily.

Draco put his arm around his son and they walked back through the wall and then waited for the valet to bring their car. Soon a large, black Range Rover hove into view and they climbed in, Ginny getting into the driver’s side.

“Was it too hard, love?” Ginny asked Arthur as she pulled into traffic. A car cut them off in the roundabout and Ginny shot a glance at Draco.

“You’re sure we can’t just use our wands and curse those wankers who can’t fucking drive?” Ginny asked.

Draco laughed and Arthur smiled for the first time that day.

“It—it was really tough to see him go off.” Arthur said, his head pressed against the window. Drizzly rain dripped pattered against it. “But, I’ll be off to school soon and I’ll be fine.”

Draco turned in his seat. “You’re sure you still want to go away to Eton. You don’t have to; we can get tutors to come to the mansion.”

Arthur shook his head sullenly. “My place is in the Muggle world. I don’t know why I know, but I just know.”

Draco and Ginny turned to look at each other. As they did, the car in front that had cut them off earlier slammed on its brakes and Ginny barely avoided hitting it.

She rolled down her window.

“Sod off and learn to drive!” She shouted at the other car.

A middle finger emerged from the car’s window and then disappeared as the car took off again.

 

* * *

 

The Christmas lights shone bright at Malfoy Manor, reflected in a light dusting of snow. Arthur tromped heavily up the path to the main door. He leaned over to put his key in when the door opened suddenly.

Mordred reached out and grabbed his older brother in a tight hug. “I didn’t think you’d be coming this year.”

Arthur shook the snow from his shoes and overcoat and handed the latter to a waiting house elf. The house elf took the coat and began to brush it.

“I decided to come home this year instead of staying at school. My marks are good enough that I can skive off for a bit with my studies,” Arthur said.

Mordred smiled hugely. “Yeah, I know what you mean, at least I don’t have N.E.W.Ts to worry about until next year.”

The brothers moved off to the sitting room where another house elf appeared and offered cocoa and tea.

“How is it at Hogwarts?” Arthur asked.

“Same as always. Some classes are easy and some are hard.” Mordred sipped his tea. “I’m doing well in most of my courses, but I still struggle in Potions. I should have dropped it after receiving my O.W.L, but I guess I wanted to try and get as many N.E.W.Ts as possible. How is it at Eton?”

“I’m well. I’m mingling with the right people in the Eton Society and I think that we’ll be able to help each other as we go.”

“Still thinking of going into Muggle politics?” Mordred asked his brother.

Arthur smiled and nodded. “God knows they can use some good heads. I think sometimes that most politicians have their heads stuffed with straw, or maybe they just pull their ideas out of their arse.”

Mordred laughed. “It doesn’t seem so different in the Wizarding World. It seems that the Ministry runs just as much my tradition and old-boyism as it does from competence.”

“You should join the Ministry and you can work to push it to the modern age, and I can work to bring the Muggles into clear thinking.”

Mordred laughed again. “Politics and clear thinking don’t go together; you know that. It’s always ‘appeal to the lowest common denominator’ instead of ‘do what’s best for Britain.’”

Arthur took his cocoa from a side table and stirred it thoughtfully. “It doesn’t need to be like that. A small select group of clear heads working together could do a lot of good.”

“It could, if it could get past the party elite and actually work on issues instead of propaganda.” Mordred was starting to get louder as he got into the discussion.

“You’re too young to be that cynical.” Draco’s voice came from just outside the room.

They both stood as their father came in. A house elf handed Draco a mug of tea.

“Not arguing about politics again, are you?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“Not so much arguing, as me trying to convince Mordred here that he should be looking at a career in the Ministry of Magic with an eye to bringing it into the modern age,” Arthur said.

“Dad would like that,” Draco said, “his grandson in politics.”

Arthur snorted. “You know how I feel about that. He’s part of what’s wrong with the system, both Muggle and Wizard. We don’t need more people like him, we need more people like Mordred, who wants to change things.”

 Draco turned to his younger son. “And how would you change things, Mordred?”

“It’s moot. I’m not going into politics; I’m going to work for Gringott’s after I leave Hogwarts.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I lost. I can’t believe they re-elected Hautdesert.” Arthur sat down heavily in the chair in his campaign office.

His campaign manager, Sarah Douglass sat down across from him. “We’ll try again next time.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t think I can win here, it’s too conservative and they don’t want real change.” He stood and pulled the map of England off the wall. “There,” he pointed on the map, “that looks like a safe seat for a progressive like me, and we know that Glaad’s not going to stand for re-election in the next cycle. Think he’d like an assistant who knows the ropes?”

Sarah smiled. “I think he’d love an assistant who’s worked with the enemy and knows the lay of the land. I put out some feelers to him.”

Arthur moved around the desk and pulled her tightly into a hug.

“Now that the election’s done, can I put out some feelers to you, finally?” He asked.

She lifted her head and pulled him into a long kiss. “Now that the election’s done, yes.”

He kissed her again and then swept the reports, polls and map off his desk and lowered her to it.

 

 

* * *

 

“These witch hunts, if you’ll pardon the phrase, must end.” Mordred talked softly, but every eye in the meeting was on him. The Head Auror, Grun Ritter, looked at him with open suspicion, while Harry Potter watched warily, but without overt hostility. The two witches that flanked Mordred both had rolls of parchment in front of them and one of them slid a roll across to Ritter. “These people have been acquitted and yet still they are pursued and stalked by Aurors and Hit Wizards. I will no longer stand for it, and there will be legal action if it continues. Gringotts will no longer support your warrants and your Aurors will no longer be welcome there.”

Ritter rolled through the scroll that Mordred ‘s assistant had lain in front of him. He lifted his head and met Mordred’s eyes.

“These people were all Death Eaters or suspected Death Eaters. We have a duty and a right to search them, their domiciles and their hidey-holes at Gringotts.”

Mordred didn’t flinch from the old Auror’s eyes. “No sir, I think you’ll find that you have no right to pursue these people, my clients, any longer. If you have an issue, you will come to me. They have done nothing wrong and they will no longer suffer your persecution.”

“They’ll suffer worse than my persecution, mark my words, boy.” Ritter slammed his hand on the table. Harry put a calming arm on Ritter’s shoulder, but Ritter shrugged it off. “I’m going to hunt down every last one of these people and make sure they get what’s coming to them. Azkaban for most of them, and the Dementor’s Kiss for the worst of the lot.”

“In that case, Ritter, you should be prepared to lose your position in the Ministry. I’m going to reveal your illegal tactics to the press and then, I think that Pellinor’s Ministry will fall and the coming elections will only reveal more of your under-handedness to the wizarding community at large.” Mordred stood. “I look forward to that day and I hope that you enjoy Azkaban as well.” He turned and left the room.

Harry started to say something to Ritter, but Ritter turned and Disapparated.

 

 

* * *

 

Sarah still shook her head at the opulence of Malfoy Manor sometimes; it was hard to believe that her husband was so wealthy, even harder than believing he was born from a wizarding family. She still flinched back when a House Elf talked to her.

“How does it feel being married to a rising MP star?” Mordred asked her.

Sarah smiled. “It’s great. Arthur’s going to really make some changes.”

Mordred scoffed. “One MP can’t make those changes, you’ll need to think bigger.”

Arthur came back from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and coffee.

“I am thinking bigger.” Arthur handed a sandwich to his wife and one to Mordred. “I know that we’ll never be able to enact a real platform of change unless we can get more right-thinkers elected. I’ve got to grow this party, and the only way that I’m going to do that is to start stealing moderate conservatives from the Tories and the most progressive thinkers from Labour. We need a new line for the Liberal Democrats and I’m going to start pushing it. I’m going to grow the momentum we started in 2030 and keep it rolling.”

Mordred held up his hands. “You sound more like you’re trying to convince yourself than me. Make sure you’re completely sure of your platform before you start changing things.”

Sarah gripped Arthur’s hand. “We’re sure of our position.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Mr Malfoy, what does this mean for Wizarding Britain?” The shouted question came from the back of the throng of reporters.

Mordred smiled. “It means that no longer will we be subject to persecution purely at the whim of a single man. The rule of law will apply to all. Ritter abused his power and his office and he is paying his penance for it. His resignation clears the way for a clear head to take over the Aurors; Harry Potter.”

Harry stepped from behind a curtain an approached the podium. As he passed Mordred, he whispered, “Remember, I will not be your puppet or a figurehead. I will run this office as it should be run.”

Mordred whispered back, “I welcome it.” He shook Harry’s hand and clapped him on the back.

“And now, Mr Potter will take your questions.”

 

* * *

 

_30 years later_

Arthur read the headline with satisfaction.

_“Newly reinvigorated Lib-Dems to form coalition government with Conservatives. Malfoy expected to be named PM”_

He sipped his coffee and skimmed the article, already knowing what it would say. He was expecting a phone call any minute, but still jumped when an owl flew into the kitchen and dropped a letter on his plate. He recognized the owl as his father’s and slit open the letter immediately. Arthur’s smile grew as he read his father’s congratulations.

A moment later, Sarah came in with his mobile, her hand held over the mouthpiece. She was already dressed for the press conference that was surely about to come.

“It’s the king,” she whispered, handing him his phone.

He took the phone. “Good morning, your majesty.”

A muffled male voice came from the other end.

“Yes, your majesty, at once.”

The muffled voice spoke again.

“Thank you, your majesty.” He hung up.

He stood and embraced Sarah, then kissed her, smudging her lipstick.

“It’s official, we’re to move into Downing Street immediately.”

 

 

* * *

 

"Mr Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, will you stand for election?” The reporter stood with her quill poised over her parchment.

“It’s time for a real change in the Wizarding World, and I mean to bring it about!” Mordred pounded on the podium.

“I will be your next Minister of Magic!”

The hand-picked crowd roared. He raised his hand and the crowd quieted.

“After the last wizarding war ended more than fifty years ago, bigotry and hatred was defeated, or so we thought. We all know the persecutions that happened to innocent wizards and witches after this, led by Grun Ritter and his cronies.” Boos, cat-call and hisses erupted from the audience.

“But he was right about one thing. Hatred and bigotry have no place here in modern Wizarding Britain. At one time Muggleborns were considered lucky and somehow we got away from that and they became a symbol of failing purity. My opponent’s platform of hatred, forced removal of Squibs and Muggle abuse must not stand. Together we will defeat the new Death Eater party!” The crowd roared again.

 

 

* * *

 

The shouting increased as Harry approached the podium.

“I would like to announce my unreserved endorsement of Mordred Malfoy. I have worked closely with him for the last ten years, as I’ve rooted out legitimate threats to our way of life, and he has helped to find the real troublemakers and stop the persecutions that ran rampant during the tenure of Grun Ritter. I know that many of you have reservations about his name and heritage, with his grandfather having been a Death-Eater and his father accused of it. I can assure you that Mordred does not follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and that his father was forced into what he did. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to Draco Malfoy for all the suspicions I have put on him over the years, and the aspersions I have cast on his character. I believe him to be a changed man, and he is responsible for the great man you see before you.” Harry paused to let the crowd settle, then shouted, “I present to you, Mordred Malfoy, your next Minister of Magic!”

Draco came out of the wings, and Harry shook his hand. They both motioned Ginny onto the stage but she just shook her head. Finally, Mordred went to her and dragged her out on stage. She took Draco’s hand, but her eyes stayed on Harry as they posed for the photographers.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry Apparated suddenly into the Cabinet Meeting, startling the Muggle Ministers who had been meeting with Arthur.

“Protego Maximo.” He incanted, encasing Arthur in a glowing field. The guards at the corner of the room raised their assault rifles at Harry.

“Stop!” the Prime Minister shouted. “You know Harry, he’s attached to my personal detail.”

While the others were distracted, the Secretary of State for Defence rose, pulled a small plastic pistol from his robes and fired at Arthur. The bullet bounced off Harry’s shield and ricocheted into the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, who slumped in her chair.

“We want a Second Salem!” the shooter shouted before the guards cut him down, hitting another minister in the cross-fire.

Harry moved into the protective sphere surrounding the Prime Minister and Disapparated.

They reappeared in a small, bleak room with just a table, two chairs and a clock on the wall.

“What’s going on, Harry?” Arthur asked.

“Wait a moment until we get your brother here, too.” Harry Disapparated again.

Arthur searched the room for a door, but didn’t find one. It was only five minutes before Harry reappeared with an unconscious Mordred in his arms. Mordred’s head was gashed and blood flowed freely onto his robe. Harry staunched the wound with his wand. A second later, another Auror appeared with Arthur’s wife, Sarah. He spoke briefly with Harry while Sarah ran to Arthur and they embraced. The new Auror Disapparated again immediately.

Harry Rennervated Mordred who stirred groggily. Arthur and Harry both helped him to one of the chairs. Arthur motioned for Sarah to take the other.

“What’s happening?” Sarah shrieked.

Harry wiped Mordred’s blood from his hand.

“There have been coordinated attacks around the world. The Ministry in London has been attacked by what we suspect are Second Salemers, but they were repelled by Aurors and a group of Unspeakables led by Caradoc Pritchard. Mordred was attacked in his home, but Jackson killed his attacker. I have an unconfirmed report that Hogwarts was breeched. We’ve also had reports that there was an attack on Ilvermorny and MACUSA. Nothing is really known right now, so I brought you here. This is a safe place.”

“I can’t do my job from here, Harry, you need to take me to my Situation Room.” Arthur said.

“I can’t either, Harry,” Mordred said, rubbing at his head. “We need to get ahead of this.”

“We’re clearing the rest of your staff right now, Mr Prime Minister, and then we’ll get you to the Situation Room.” Harry turned to Mordred. “And you, sir, we’re setting up a command center at my cabin in the Hebrides.” Mordred nodded; he knew that Harry’s cabin was one of the most warded places in Britain.

Jackson’s gargoyle Patronus appeared and began to speak.

“Confirmed: destruction of Ilvermorny and attack on MACUSA. Death tolls unknown, but more than 500 for Ilvermorny and the President of MACUSA confirmed as casualty. Attack on Hogwarts repelled by staff, explosive device disarmed by Professor Longbottom. Attack on Ministry quelled. Reports of attacks in Japan, Canada, Mexico, unconfirmed.”


	5. The Red Dragon Arisen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far in the future, we see how the Red Dragon arose and brought greatness back to the United Kingdom.

_International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in shambles after attacks by ‘Second Salemers’ kill over 2,000. Ilvermorny destroyed, revised death toll reaches 453 students and faculty. President of MACUSA confirmed dead along with 45 other representatives._

Arthur threw down the paper. It landed face up on a picture of Harry smeared with blood, holding Mordred upright as Mordred spoke. Arthur turned in his chair and looked at Harry, who stood on guard in the corner of the room. He’d never noticed just how much grey Harry had in his hair and the deep wrinkles around his eyes. Even though wizards stayed spry until late in life, Harry had to be pushing 85.

“Harry, are you sure you don’t want to sit?” Arthur asked. “I know you trust Jackson and he can guard me just as well as you can.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll stay as long as needed. At least until this crisis is past.” He turned his attention suddenly to the door, his wand leaping to his hand.

Mordred walked through the door, hands raised. “It is, I, Mordred Malfoy, Minister of Magic, younger brother of the great prat Arthur Malfoy, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, who once told me that all politicians should be drawn and quartered… and then set afire.”

Arthur nodded and Harry lowered his wand. When Mordred closed the door, it latched audibly and wards flared into life. Mordred sat at the small table with Arthur.

“How did this happen?” Arthur asked.

Harry sat between them.

“It seems that the ‘New Second Salemers’ as they are styling themselves had infiltrated multiple Muggle and Wizard ministries. We believe that they were working with descendants of the Scourers. They were coordinating via Muggle social media. Some of the chatter was picked up by MI-5, MI-6, the FBI, and the CIA, but they all dismissed it as nutters talking about magic and conspiracies.”

He sighed. “I think our own disinformation did us a disservice there. Muggles in the intelligence service tend to dismiss psychics or magicians out of hand and they didn’t view these as credible sources.”

“Since they didn’t remark on it, none of our observers of their reports noticed it either, including myself. This was a failure of the intelligence services to not recognize the threat and then also to not coordinate with the Aurors, in England, America, and to a lesser extent the rest of the world.”

“And now we have to put this back together.” Arthur sighed. “How many more sympathizers did you find in the Ministry?”

Harry pulled out a scroll and unrolled it. “We’re not completely done yet, but so far, 3 senior Ministers, including your Secretary of State for Defence, and approximately twenty junior staffers.” He unrolled the scroll further. “In the Ministry of Magic, we found several junior staffers who appeared to be acting under the Imperius curse and one senior Minister who was active in the plot on Hogwarts.”

“Thank God for Sir Neville,” Morded said.

“Yes, thanks to Neville we suffered no casualties at Hogwarts. It’s unfortunate that the Yanks weren’t so lucky.”

 

 

“We must work together in cooperation to get through this period of unrest. Together with our magical brethren we will overcome the prejudice that is threatening to destroy the United States, the Middle East, and much of Africa and Southeast Asia.” Arthur read his statement carefully.

“It was not common knowledge that the wizarding community in Great Britain has done their part in securing our successes and helping our economy. I know this personally.” He paused, ready for his big reveal. This was going live all across the world instantly, and he didn’t want to botch it.

“My mother is a witch and my father is a wizard.” Cameras clicked and reporters gasped. He waited for the noise to settle.

“Moreover, my brother Mordred is Minister of Magic, duly elected by his constituents.” Reporters started shouting questions, some of them from their android surrogates.

“No that’s ridiculous. They’re human, just like you and me. We’re all human, no matter what those Second Salemer terrorists would have you believe; and they are terrorists. They attacked a school of children in the U.S. and they should be called to answer for their actions.”

 

 

Two Hundred Years Later

As the virtual tour group entered the museum the hologrammatic avatar of the tour guide began to speak with a bland American accent.

“We’re now entering the Hall of ‘The Second Age of Camelot.’ Here you see holograms of Sir Mordred Malfoy and Sir Arthur Malfoy. Who can tell me why they were important?”

A timid hand rose from the back of the throng of students.

“Yes, Miss Weasley?” The guide asked.

“Well, Miss,” the little girl said, “Sir Arthur was the Muggle Prime Minister and Sir Mordred was the Minister for Magic during the attacks by the Second Salemers and they worked together afterwards and led the United Kingdom into what’s been called ‘The Second Age of Camelot.’ Their policies of Wizard and Muggle integration led to a mostly peaceful interaction between the two, while most of the rest of the world struggled with prejudice and violence toward wizards and witches.”

“Very good, Miss Weasley. Five points to Ravenclaw.” The tour guide moved on to a hologram of Harry.

“We’ve already studied the role of Sir Harry Potter in the defeat of the self-styled ‘Lord Voldemort,’ but who can tell me of his role in The Second Age of Camelot?”

Another girl raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Singh?”

“As head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he rooted out the conspirators and made sure the ‘Second Salemers’ no longer held positions of power in the Muggle or Wizard ministries. He also became the first person to hold a cabinet position in both when he was assigned to be a junior Minister of Defence. He was a figurehead, even though he said he hated that part of his role, of how to be in both worlds.”

“Yes, another five points for Ravenclaw.” The guide moved on to a small display of appliances.

“I’m sure all of you have a magic icebox in your home, and a NetStation that’s powered by technology. Here we have early prototypes of some of the devices that helped build the trust between Muggles and Wizards in Britain. This is the magical icebox that Cassius Papak helped to develop. Who can tell me why this was important?”

“Mister Fellowes?” She pointed to a boy.

An older boy stepped forward, dressed in his Eton uniform. “Muggles were having a hard time accepting Wizards and their works, until Papak pointed out the energy savings of providing magic iceboxes and climate control for buildings. His revolutionary Charms work on heating and cooling reduced the average muggle electrical use by about one-third, and only increased as his company also provided magical washing machines, dishwashers, and clothes dryers. He was one of the first Wizards to integrate technology into magical devices and have it stay working. We can safely say that he was the reason that we no longer need to import fossil fuels into the United Kingdom and can do with our reserves.”

The guide smiled. “A very detailed answer, Mister Fellowes and ten points to Walpole House. Yes, Papak’s work allowed the Muggle community at large to see how Wizards could integrate into their society and that they could be an asset if they worked together. What is not commonly known is that Cassius Papak had done this on a grant from Malfoy’s government, on his orders. We have here the documents that show he was a visionary in understanding that to win over Muggles to the Wizard side that he would have to prove their fiscal use.”

They moved on to a wax figure of an older, bushy-haired woman, holding a wand in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other and a pile of loaves of bread at her feet.

“And here is Dame Hermione Granger. Who can explain Gamp’s law and why it was important to the period of ‘The Second Age of Camelot?’”

Ms Weasley raised her hand again. The guide nodded at her.

“Dame Hermione knew that Gamp’s law stated that you couldn’t make food from nothing, but you could multiply it if you had some to start with. She was able to bring witches and wizards to the poorest parts of the world, where hunger was rampant and multiply the existing food there, so that hunger is no longer as pervasive in the world as it was.” She paused. “She was also my great-great-great Gran.”

“That is correct, and another five points for Ravenclaw.”

The guide gestured to the hall. “Your assignment for this term is to write about the ‘Second Age of Camelot’ and to state why you believe or don’t believe that the Malfoys and their policies helped usher in the worldwide acceptance of witches and wizards. This will comprise twenty percent of your grade in your Wizarding Studies or Muggle Studies class, as may be appropriate to your school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is done after 6 years of struggle. The Brexit changed this story radically, as originally, Mordred and Arthur were going to be preventing just that.
> 
> The Red Dragon refers to both Mordred and Arthur working together.


End file.
